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The sheikh didn’t deny this, saying mildly, “It is a requisite for the job.”

“Tongues have been wagging atrociously, too,” Rayyan pointed out, “and it does nothing for our own economy when people believe the king’s marriage is less than idyllic.”

Tarif smirked. “I knew you’d somehow find a way to link this to financial matters.”

In a perfect imitation of the Emir Sheikh’s tone, the blue-eyed sheikh deadpanned, “It is a requisite for the job.”

“Airafi,”Khalil said pleasantly.Fuck you.

The other men laughed, but it was not enough for the tension in the meeting room to abate completely. All of them knew from firsthand experience that rumors could be as viciously sharp as poisoned swords, with the power to turn people away for good.

“Would you at least like any of us to interfere for you?” Malik asked finally.

Khalil shook his head. “The rumors will naturally die down once it becomes clear that I will never be in the market for a second wife. But as for the rest – it must be allowed to run its own course.” The sheikh’s tone was cold and flat, but despite what his seeming indifference suggested, he – more than anyone in this kingdom – was counting on Harper to realize her destiny. And she would. She must. The sheikh refused to entertain any other alternative. He would have no other woman in this lifetime. Only his Harper would do, but for this to happen, Harper had to find a way to show the world what he had always seen in her.

A woman, despite her commoner’s blood, who was born to be queen.

So prove me right, malakti, the sheikh thought fiercely.



















Chapter Thirteen

IT WAS THE WEEKENDof the sheikh’s birthday, an occasion that also served as the first official event that Harper would be hosting as his wife. As he was a man who already had everything, she had thought long and hard on what to give him before eventually deciding that an exemplary performance as his queen was the best gift she could give him.

For this she had woken up early – earlier even than the sheikh, which startled and momentarily gave her pause. It had been a long time since she had glimpsed his sleeping face, and she couldn’t help staring.

Perfect, she couldn’t help thinking. He was so, so perfect in every way that a man could be, and the thought twisted her heart so because she knew she was still worlds away from being his equal. Whenever she spent time with his people, stories of hero worship were inevitable, and at first she had been skeptical, wondering if the people were only saying such things of the sheikh because they wanted to get on her good side. But as the stories only piled up, and they were always consistent in how they portrayed the Emir Sheikh, Harper had taken it upon herself to verify the truth on her own.

And what she discovered only made her love him more.

Here was a man who had used his personal fortune for the rehabilitation of injured Ramilian soldiers and offered monetary aid to grieving widows and orphaned children. And when he had learned of his grandfather refusing to offer basic healthcare to his people purely out of avarice, Khalil had once again dug into his own pockets to set up non-profit hospitals that offered free medical care. And all of this, he did despite King Hasim publicly branding him a bastard who’d never inherit the throne.

On the day Harper had married the sheikh, she had foolishly thought she was only marrying a man who happened to wear a crown. Now, she knew how wrong she was. She had married a man whose entire life had been selflessly devoted to Ramil – a man whom everyone believed would one day go down as one of history’s greatest kings.

Even now, it remained a daunting thought, a grave reminder of the monumental task that lay ahead of her, and as she continued to study the sheikh’s sleeping profile in silence, Harper gnawed on her lip worriedly. Could she ever measure up to him?

Yes. No. Of course. Never.